


God Love Her

by weapon13WhiteFang



Category: The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Bible Thumping, F/M, Fights, Love, Lust, Religion, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-02-22 22:47:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2524517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weapon13WhiteFang/pseuds/weapon13WhiteFang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rebel child with a Preacher's daughter will rock a community, and only Faith and a little try-hard will help things work out.</p>
<p>(Inspired by and titled after Toby Keith's "God Love Her". Give it a listen!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_She's a rebel child_  
 _And a preacher's daughter_  
 _She was baptized in dirty water_  
 _Her mama cried the first time_  
 _They caught her with me_  
 _They knew they couldn't stop her_  
God Love Her, **Toby Keith**

A fast road to nowhere. That's what he'd been told his whole damn life. That he was on fast road to nowhere real quick. And everybody was waiting for the day Merle Dixon crashed on that road. Hell they all watched to see him slip and fuck up. Waited for the moment he couldn't worm his way outta jail or worse.

“Merle,” her soft voice whispered, soft tiny hands reaching up to run down the muscles of his arm.

But what those fuckers thought of him – what the whole damn town thought – was nothin. He could care two shits of what they thought of him or how they looked at him. He knew who was and where he wanted to be. And currently it was in her arms.

“Shh,” he rasped against the side of her neck by her ear, “make too much noise, sugar, and ye'll give us away.”

She let out a whimper and made innocent, yet sinful mewling sounds as she rocked against him, his larger form hovering over her smaller, lithe body as her long smooth legs wrapped around his waist and her hands grasped at his neck, holding him close as his mouth explored along her neck.

He ground against her core as she tightened her legs and met his pressing hard-on. She gasped sharply and he chuckled, enjoying the way her skin flushed redder. She was such an innocence compared to him in this field. His girl knew her way around the bible and books, but he knew his way around her.

A part of him felt a little guilty at that, thinking of his escapades while this angel was arching and sighing sweetly under him. But he never claimed to be no saint, and it wasn't a damn secret he got around. And he knew she knew enough of that, so if she was still willing to meet him then she was taking the past with the current.

_"... But each one is tempted when he is carried away and enticed by his own lust. Then when lust has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and when sin is accomplished, it brings forth death. Do not be deceived, my beloved brethren..."_

His angel let out a soft gasp of air as the pastor – angels own daddy – spoke up, his voice carrying through the church as it always did. Merle waited to see if she'd pull away, see if she'd jump and run back downstairs from the stands over the church. No one sat up in the stands in the summer, the heat unbearable and stifling, creating a slick sheet of sweat over their skin.

He was a little surprised as she reached up and drew him down to her lips, but eagerly met her, biting down a smirk. Girl had come to him. Had sought him out. And now here she was continuing what she helped start.

Merle's mouth traveled down her neck and followed a slow, easy path to dip to the V of the little white blouse she'd worn today. Pure white. Pure like her. No matter how many times he teased or touched her, she was still so damn pure. They hadn't done anything beyond explorring and touches and a lot of mouth work. He wasn't sure what kept him from taking her, but he didn't. Not yet.... No he'd let her bring them over to that side.

His lips and tongue came to the border of her top that prevented him from what he sought. He smirked, however, as he reached down and pulled the fabric of her blouse to just under her breast. Without thought he dipped his head and pressed his mouth above her naval. He was instantly rewarded with her scent surrounding him: honeysuckle and clean linen and all female. 

Her body shuddered with surprise at first as he moved his tongue and lips over her skin, tasting her flesh, feeling her stomach ripple and harden as his right hand slid between her thighs and between her legs. He positioned himself so he was once again hovering over her, fingers tracing the stitching of her denim shorts to her zipper and moving up.

“Merle,” she breathed out, her chest heaving and fingers splayed against the back of his head, tangled in the small bit of curls he'd allowed to grow from his usual buzz-cut.

He lifted his mouth from her soft skin, his warm breath sending goosebumps along her flesh and making her gasp as it also cooled. She looked down at him with half-lidded eyes and he gave a smirk, resting rested his cheek against her stomach and letting the scrape of a week's worth of a growing beard rack against her soft skin, smirking as she shivered and smiled shyly at him.

“Beth! What in God's name are you-”

“Beth Greene!”

Merle tensed and his body curled around her. He hadn't pulled the material of her shirt up high enough to expose her, but he still sought to cover her as she reached up and brushed her shirt down. She easily crawled from under him, standing slowly as he rose slowly.

Staring at him with a look of disgust and horror was Annette and Hershel Greene. Annette had her hands over her mouth, tears in her eyes as Hershel – dressed in his preachers best – stared at Merle with such contempt that Merle found himself sneering at the older male.

Beth – her hand on his shoulder – stared back, meeting her father's cold, hurt gaze. She gently took a step forward and opened her mouth to speak, but Hershel Greene held up a hand and his angel's mouth snapped shut, her expression hurt.

“We're leaving now,” Hershel said firmly, and Merle – standing straight and dragging on his Savage Sons MC cut over his tank-top – kept his eyes locked with the preacher's stoney expression.

Beth looked back at him as Annette – tears in her eyes – dragged Beth away and down the stairs. Merle caught a flicker of Maggie and Shawn – her siblings – trying to come upstairs but they were dragged away by Annette, leaving Hershel and Merle.

Merle cracked his jaw and looked at the preacher, his muscle stiff and teeth mashed hard together. It was the instinct to fight. He wouldn't hit the man. He wouldn't beat a holy man, even if right now he was simply a holy pain in the ass who was looking at him like he was nothing. He'd gotten that look his whole life, but from this man – the father of that little angel who'd been under him – it made his blood boil.

“I'm a man of God, Merle Dixon,” Hershel began, his voice soft and firm and reaching, “but I wish to God that right now, at this moment, I wasn't... My Beth... She's too kind. Likes to see the good in everyone... I wont let you break her of that.”

There was a threat like no other in that calm statement, and Merle sneered but remained quiet. He stood and watched as Hershel turned and made his way down the stairs, leaving Merle standing alone in a lonely, quiet church.

He stood awhile, teeth mashed and seeing red before it all seemed to drain from him and he was reaching up to wipe at the sweat on his brow. He took a few steps and leaned against a window looking down on the church parking lot where he could see his bike next to Daryl's, who was leaning against his and smoking a cigarette.

His eyes flickered to the Greene family and he watched Beth – his little angel – try to say something to her parents, only to be cut off again. Her elder sister and brother shot dark glares at his brother, who glared back but continued to smoke his cigarette.

He watched their car pull off before he growled and made his way down the stairs, punching a wall and knocking over a crucifix fixation off a wall. He paid it no mind and stormed outside. His little brother looked away from the Greene car – having been watching it leave – to look at him.

“The preacher's daughter?” he drawled as Merle drew closer.

He shot Daryl a warning glare – Not fucking now! - and the younger Dixon shook his head before flicking the butt of his cigarette on the ground and stomping it before he mounted his bike.

“Think yer ass will get shot down by the big asshole upstairs or her daddy first?”

“Shut the fuck up!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angels have an affect on Wild Ones

_She's a rebel child_  
 _And a preacher's daughter_   
_She was baptized in dirty water_   
_Her mama cried the first time_  
 _They caught her with me_  
 _They knew they couldn't stop her_  
God Love Her, **Toby Keith**

Merle sat on the porch of his old double-wide trailer, a joint dangling from his fingers. Inside he could hear shuffling and the occasional breaking of glass as his old man – drunk off his ass – stumbled about the kitchen while he knew his mother was hiding in the bathroom for a bath and probably smoking with the window open like always.

Smoke clouded his eyes as he stared out across the sun-burned yard, the yellowing grass in need of a watering and the ground littered with junk from the junkyard behind the trailer, cigarette butts, and broken cups and glass from the old man throwing shit when he was in a row. Hell Merle was certain he might find traces of his, the old mans, and Daryl's blood in the soil if he had someone looked, considering all the fights that had gone down in the old yard.

His high was a decent one, but damn would he kill for some beer. He would get on his bike and just go grab some, but then he knew the old man would try coming outside and that wasn't a plan. Although he wasn't afraid to fight, for once he didn't feel like it. Something that – a month ago – would've seemed weird to him.

But no. Ever since his angel – his Girl as he would call her when it was just them – made herself a spot in his life, Merle hadn't felt much like fighting. Oh he'd kick an ass or two still. But he wasn't out looking for one. Just as he found he wasn't out looking to always get lit and high as a kite.

A shattering of glass caused him to look up and across the way to the other end of Moonstar Trailer Park. Moonstar had once been run by a bunch of old, home-style folks. But like many things, it was over-run by the low class and white trash of Blackwood due to it's cheap land offering and easy on the bills and was far out enough that cops only showed up if the law was called.

Taking a puff of his joint, Merle stared at the dirty, single-wide trailer that was about half a football field away from his families burnt orange and white one. He saw an outline of a large man moving his fat arms harshly and pointing threateningly to someone not in the window. But Merle didn't need to see to know who the man – a guy named Ed Peletier, who worked at the same metal plant as his old man – was yelling at; his wife.

It was no secret in Blackwood that Ed Peletier was probably beating his wife – a pretty slip with short reddish hair named Carol who was about four years older than his little brother – and their little auburn haired daughter; Sophia.

Thinking of Sophia, Merle's eyes – though not as alert with the laced weed in his system – landed on the old playground in the center of Moonstar. It wasn't much of a playground – old workout bars, a slide, old swings, and a busted teeter-toter – and it didn't offer much in terms of hiding. But he could just make out the faint, lanky form of a twelve-year-old with shoulder length auburn hair and eyes that looked like honey.

Sophia Peletier sat on the swings of the janky playground and he watched her swing softly back and forth, gripping the swing chain tightly and staring down at her feet. The girl didn't even flinch as Merle heard an even louder smashing of silverware nor did she cower. She simply stayed at the swings and moved slowly back and forth.

Merle stared at the little girl and found he was also seeing himself at twelve. Seeing when he would sit under the offered shadow of the large slide and listen to his old man go at his old lady. His hand reached up and absently traced a scar on his left forearm where Will – Buck as his few buddies called him – Dixon broke his arm and made the bone protrude through his skin after trying to get him off his mama once. It would be the first scar of many for trying or for his fathers brutality.

“Hello Mr. Merle,” Sophia's soft voice reached him, and Merle startled as – somehow – he'd found his way over to the playground swings.

“Hey, kid,” he drawled, biting back a curse.

How the fuck had he gotten over here? Hell he didn't even remember getting up or moving over towards the playground. The only thing he recalled was staring at her. He looked at his joint and shook his head. Guess it was more laced up than he thought.

“I'm not suppose to talk to you,” Sophia spoke up again, looking down at her feet still.

“Yer pap tell ya that?” he drawled, jaw tightening.

“Mmhmm... He says mama and I can't talk to you or any Dixons,” she said softly, honey brown eyes flickering to the faded blue trailer warily.

Merle cracked his jaw loudly at that and scoffed. Ed was one paranoid, controlling freak. He seemed to be under the impression his wife was spreading her legs all around Blackwood. Least that's what he'd heard him scream at her late in the night.

He grunted and took a drag of his joint. It was almost down to the stub now. He walked over to one of the swingset poles and dropped to the ground, resting his back against the cool metal. He would've sat on the swing but he knew it would probably break under his weight.

“Smoking is bad for you, Mr. Merle,” Sophia said, still not really looking at him but wrinkling her little nose.

“Lot of things bad for ya, kid,” he answered back with a scoff.

Sophia turned her honey-like eyes to him. “Do you like Miss Beth?” she asked, her eyes all innocent and her head tilting just slightly and Merle cursed as he felt the joint burn his finger. He chucked it down and stared at her. Where the hell had that question come from?!

“The Hell ya askin that for?” he asked, stupified and annoyed.

“Miss Beth is nice,” Sophia said softly. “She works at that place mommy and I stayed one time. They were nice. This doctor lady gave me nice clothes and a new book... Daddy ripped it up, though,” she whispered now, ignoring his question.

Merle frowned deeply, knowing exactly where Sophia was talking about. The refugee center was just outside of Blackwood at the edge of Atlanta. He'd picked Beth up from there once or twice but avoided it because of the way some women would flinch away from the sight of him. He didn't like being looked at like he was just get off his bike and go beat into them and their kids.

“Sometimes dads are jackasses,” Merle said after awhile, laying his head back against the cool pole of the swing-set.

Sophia stared at him, her eyes tracing over some of the scars that were visible and he found himself noting just a few bruises that were normally hidden but plain as day with the pajamas she had on. Merle felt his jaw clinch tight and himself sit up a little as he noticed a hand-sized bruised peeking from between her thighs.

“Kid... Your daddy ever touch ya... In a place...” Merle tried, not able to find the words and not sure how to ask. But he felt he had to ask them. Because all he could hear was Beth telling him stories of little girls coming in and being sexually abused by their own blood and he could feel his own blood boiling at such a thought happening to a kid. He was a lot of things, but Merle Dixon was no sick fuck who got his jollies off on little kids.

Sophia curled her legs up and she was so small she looked like a sickly kitten curled up on the swing-set. And Merle felt a punch to his gut that no high could brush away from him. Because this little kid was looking at him with those honey-like eyes that were closed off and hiding; the same eyes he gave people that tried to ask him about if his old man beat him.

“I'm not suppose to tell,” Sophia said so softly that Merle just barely heard her. “I'll get in trouble... He'll hurt me and mommy...” she was shaking now and Merle felt sick. What the fuck did he do? He didn't do this shit... Why the fuck couldn't he just look away and keep his mouth shut.

_“Merle...”_

Angel... His Girl... Goddamit... He felt like a fuckin pussy-wiped dumbass he was always making fun of Martinez for being when he started dating that chick last year...

“Fuck,” Merle croaked, closing his eyes and cursing under his breath as he stumbled to his feet. “Stay here,” he told Sophia absently, making for his trailer. 

He needed a phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a reason behind this part and well you'll see when I can update next!

**Author's Note:**

> This wont be a really long story as I'm focusing on others but I hope you enjoy what I give :)


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